by Amy Bearce
He said, “I’ll only kill if I have to. It’s about the mission, Nellwyn. You understand that.”
The truth of his words landed on her like a hundred-pound weight. She did understand. She’d often felt the end justified the means and had been proud of her ruthlessness. They were more alike than she wished. Looking at Shane now, she felt a wave of fear.
She had to find that sword or she was going to die or fall victim to Shane’s power, like that poor sprite just did. Everyone she loved would face the same horrific fate.
She couldn’t allow herself to end up serving a madman, her own heart corrupted beyond recognition. Only three footsteps would carry her to the doorway now. But her feet wouldn’t move.
“I’ll beat you,” Nell forced out through lips numb with fear―or perhaps with the new influx of poison.
“I doubt it. I was your superior years ago and still am, but the people will follow me without bloodshed if you’re at my side. Why allow a war when you know my kingship is inevitable? Isn’t it better to spare their lives?”
She couldn’t breathe. He finally made one argument hard to battle. They were all going to die anyway. What if she spared some lives?
But were lives worth saving if spent suffering under a tyrant? She thought back to the years she spent serving Jack, unable to do what was right without jeopardizing her family. She couldn’t go back to that life again.
She shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”
Shane’s gaze sharpened. “Well, now. I’ll give you one last chance to make the smart choice. I’ll keep you here until you do and my creatures will be happy to drink the life from your companions if they step too close to what’s mine. Down here, in my lands, my servants are more powerful than you know.”
He reached toward her and grabbed her wrist. Pain like lightning shook her.
A bolt of pure terror shattered the heavy weight that had held her feet immobile while he boasted. Through blurred vision, she grabbed one of the smoking bowls of liquid from the nearby stand and flung it at Shane. Liquid spattered his face, ran down his chest. He yelled and covered his eyes with his arms. Hissing filled the room as the unknown liquid hit the floor. It smelled like burned roses.
Taking her chance, she shoved him hard and ran out of the room, yanking the door shut behind her. A harsh gust of wind flew through the hall, nearly knocking her over.
A shrill shriek came from the long corridor on the left. She turned the opposite way and ran on trembling legs. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, never ending. Maybe he’d bewitched the building to keep her trapped. Another scream came from behind, closer. Something inhuman, coming after her. A dragon wouldn’t fit in here, but the sound was huge, filling her ears, pushing fear along with it. She’d never reach the door.
A quick glance behind showed a glimpse of pure white fur, triangular ears with tufts, and wide paws with long claws. Some kind of giant snow cat, it looked like, ready for its next meal.
Shane was going to kill her now anyway, no matter what lies he spun about using her to sway the people. She thought of Corbin and Sierra, and the others, no doubt frantically looking for her, with no warning about what could come for them from Shane.
In a fury, Nell jumped and grabbed hold of a vent grate in the hall ceiling. With a grunt, she yanked the grate open, swinging from the hinged metal bars. The snow cat snarled and jumped at her legs, but Nell kicked and then swung her legs up into the opening of the icy air shaft and lifted the grate shut behind her. The furious sounds of the snow cat muted immediately, but the cold grew worse.
Her breath was loud in her ears, her eyes nearly useless in the dim light. Her darkest fears swam up, whispering she’d die alone here under the ice. This was too hard. Too much work for no good reason. His poison burned like ice pressed too long to the skin. If she fell now, she could rest.
But Nell stubbornly shook her head.
“I won’t leave them alone,” she declared. Not her family. Not her friends. Not Corbin.
She tightened her lips and reached to pull herself upward. She braced her legs against each side of the icy air vent. Narrow hand holds had been dug into the ice. Her fingers screamed at her, palm on fire along its cut, but adrenalin spiked like the hit of a strength elixir. Whatever toxin Shane had used must be slow-working, or maybe the guardians were succeeding at holding it back. She could do this.
With each reach of her hands, she thought of being back home. In her mind, she wasn’t alone in the dark. She was standing in the fairy field with Corbin. He was smiling at her in that way he had, holding out a steel thistle flower to her. Just the two of them and his fairies, peaceful and happy. The love that rushed through her was more potent than battle rage.
The cold air seared her lungs, but she pulled herself up again and again, arms burning with the effort, until she could see glowing light above. The ice against her palm numbed the worst of the remaining pain, even soothed it. The tunnel turned, angling more sideways. She moved faster, sweat pouring down her face despite the freezing wind blowing down the tunnel.
She finally reached a grate to the outside. Beyond it she could see whiteness, but it wasn’t snow. Was that sand? Maybe.
Chest heaving, Nell kicked open the metal grate, pulled herself out of the vent, and hastily looked around, fearing a flight of dragons descending.
She cursed. Instead of being outside the fortress as she hoped, she was inside an oval training ring attached to the temple behind it. Huge closed doors rose behind her, next to the grate. Dusty sand covered the ground, raked clear of snow. Across from her along the curving wall, a giant pen of some kind extended out past the ring, though no animals were visible. The gate hung open.
She saw all this in a flash, but it wasn’t what captured her attention. In the arena, eggs the size of boulders lay nestled all around her.
And one of the eggs was hatching.
o more than two strides away, the shell was mottled red and silver, speckled with black dots. It rocked back and forth, big as an oversized wine barrel. A sharp tapping came from inside.
Nell tensed her legs, ready to run. Anything coming out of an egg that size could eat her for dinner and have room for a late-night snack. She scanned the arena, and her heart sank. There were no other exits.
A split zigzagged down the side of the egg. The shell opened with a sharp crack and fell to the ground like the creature inside was throwing off a coat. A red baby dragon, a hatchling, stood among the remains of the shell, looking around as if a bit shocked by its sudden change in surroundings.
The hatchling was as big as a draft horse. It made soft mewling sounds, and tiny sparks flew from its mouth. Leathery scarlet wings were tucked tight against its body. The scales along its back and face were scarlet but slid into orange near the belly. All of it shimmered with a soft iridescence. The hatchling was beautiful, majestic even in its first moments of life. It shivered and called a piercing lament, as if seeking its mother. Without conscious thought, Nell reached to console the dragon.
A full-grown dragon with blue scales stuck its head in the arena from the pen across from them, and Nell froze, hand near the baby. Mountaineers always warned never to stand between a mama and her baby, but her feet felt rooted to the ground.
The adult dragon was massive, far bigger even than the one Shane rode. It leaned into the ring, taking two steps in. Her belly was lumpy and low to the ground. She must be ready to lay eggs, but she also seemed to be this one’s mother. She strained toward her baby but something held her back.
Noise rose from the doors behind Nell ―men were coming, probably for the newborn hatchling.
The thought broke her paralysis. Shane was going to take the hatchling’s magic, as he had the snow sprites’, as he had the other dragons’. He would break its spirit and make it serve him, this beautiful, proud creature meant to soar free in the skies.
Not while I’m still alive, Nell thought. Her heart thudded, urgency pushing against the fierce poison sur
ging through her. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
The sound of clanking metal and stomping feet grew louder.
The hatchling caught sight of the blue mother dragon and yowled, staggering toward her. The mother dragon mantled her wings and lifted her head into a miserable cry that broke Nell’s heart. The huge dragon met her eyes, and for one moment Nell could see some semblance of thought inside the beast. And it wanted her baby freed.
Nell faced the mother dragon and said, “If you let me, I’ll rescue your baby, or I’ll die trying.”
The doors slammed open. Two men ran through, brandishing swords.
The dragon closed her eyes and lowered her head. Then with a loud groan, it flew low across the open air. Nell dove and rolled out of the way, and the beast landed at the open doorway. Settling her huge body hard against the doors, the mother dragon effectively blocked the rest of the men from entering the ring, at least for now. It was the most rebellion she could achieve, Nell guessed. She sensed the same magical coercion working on the poor dragon as in her, sapping its will to rebel and fight.
She saluted the mother, who was doing her best to resist the dark magic, just as Nell was. Whatever it took, she would free these dragons from Shane’s power.
She turned to the two men who’d made it into the arena. Wounded hand or not, she could handle two regular fighters. She drew her dagger and pointed it at the opening of the grate. “Hello, gentlemen. You’d be smart to head down that tunnel right there.”
The two men exchanged amused glances. The larger man had a gray beard, and neither wore a helm or shield. Their grins made it clear they thought this fight would be easy.
She grinned back.
Then she dove, shoulder connecting with the knees of the smaller one, knocking the feet out from under him. He landed with a thud and she rolled past him, snatching his sword from his loose hands. It settled against her cut palm, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t like to fight with two weapons; that was true. Time to practice.
She sprang to her feet and laughed low, dagger at the ready, swinging the sword in lazy circles.
“Warned you.”
The bearded man hollered and charged. So predictable.
Fierce joy poured down her sword arm into her swings, the lethargy from Shane’s poison pushed back by the rush of battle. She’d pay for this hard work later, but for now, her blades blurred as the bearded man jabbed and slashed with no finesse or ingenuity. The smaller man staggered to his feet. Nell quickly parried the bearded man and clunked the other on the head with her dagger’s pommel, returning him to the ground, unconscious this time. I ought to kill him, the thought came to her. It was persuasive. It coiled through her, snake-like. Her palm stung along the cut.
Backing up, she shook her head at the fallen man and his glaring colleague. “You’re lucky I don’t kill people anymore.”
Saying it out loud made it more certain she wouldn’t… forget.
“You’re a fool then,” a third man said from behind.
Nell whirled. A tall man had squeezed past the ridges of the dragon’s back and had the bloody scratches to show for it. He charged, sword glinting in the last light of the sun.
Footsteps behind her warned of her other opponent’s rapid approach. Keeping her eyes on the oncoming tall man, she jabbed her newly acquired sword at the man closing in behind her. She angled the sword hoping to hit his thigh, and he grunted. Without pausing, she yanked the blade free and brought it up over her head with her dagger, forming a cross to block the incoming blade of the tall man.
Sparks flew from the strike of their swords. The ringing of the blades rose half an octave, and Nell feared her dagger might snap under the pressure.
The tall man glared. “Shane said he trained you, but I bet I can whip you. He might even promote me when I do.”
She gave a hard shove and stepped around the bearded man groaning on the ground, keeping his body like a hurdle between them. She sheathed her dagger and snatched up his fallen sword. “Sorry, Shane only rewards people with skill,” she replied.
The tall man jumped over the fighter’s prone body and charged, as she intended.
She spun and kicked him in the back as he passed. His curse was muffled by the sand in his face.
The bearded man, blood still running down his thigh, grabbed her ankle and pulled a small hand-ax from his belt. “Give me back my sword, you stupid cow.”
A quick flash of the blade in question―hers now―disarmed him. He wasn’t worth her breath. She reversed her hold and knocked him harder to ensure he wouldn’t be back in this fight. She didn’t wait to watch his head hit the ground again before spinning to face her remaining opponent with a grin.
“You may fight well,” he said, “but the Dragon don’t hold with thieves. These here are his dragons.”
The tall man flicked his blade lightly to one side before striking again. Nell didn’t have to think about the movement that followed as she blocked him. She’d long ago learned to read the tiniest hints: a glance this way meant a feint; a wrist turned that way meant an overhead strike. She lunged, hoping to slice his sword arm and render him harmless, but her blade bounced off thick leather armor.
Nell shifted her feet and struck at the man again, ignoring her screaming muscles. If this fight stalled her too long, Shane would no doubt recover from whatever his own elixir had done to him, and she didn’t think she could escape him again, not here, not now. She had to make this fight short.
Nearby, the hatchling staggered and cried out. The mother gave a heart-wrenching shriek. Her white eyes whirled like storm clouds.
Retreat wasn’t an option. She yelled and charged. The startled man took two steps back. She kept running, using her momentum to strike with both swords one after the other, using the motion Shane had used against her when they first met again. Clang, clang, clang, like a windmill, until her left sword struck the man’s wrist to numb it, and her right sword smacked his weapon hard, knocking it to the ground. The man stood gasping, hands trembling.
“What are you?” he asked with eyes wide.
A dozen answers flew through her mind—sword seeker, prophetess, healer, who knew? Nell shrugged. “I’m just a fighter, trying to make the world a better place.” Before he could reply, she knocked him hard under the chin.
Three grown men were splayed unconscious on the dusty ground. This battle was over, but she had one left to go: She had to get the hatchling out of here.
The noises behind the mother dragon grew louder, and spears poked through the tiny spaces between the curve of her body and the doorway. The mother dragon shifted and growled but stayed put. Shane could arrive at any moment, though, and make the beast move. He could probably make her freeze Nell to death while he was at it.
The mother extended her wings and looked toward the sky. She looked at Nell and looked again to the sky, bugling once. Nell realized it was a message. The hatchling was born ready to fly and was big enough to carry her, if she could persuade it to let her on. The mother stared at Nell as if imploring for help. Save my baby, Nell could almost hear.
Somewhere under Shane’s evil compulsion to serve, the wild dragon was drowning in fear and pain. Nell felt it inside, pulsing like a heartbeat. She gritted her teeth and touched the hatchling along the neck. “Hey there, little one, let me ride you, okay?”
The baby whipped its head around and bit her on the forearm with tiny needle-teeth.
“Ow!’ Nell shouted as blood welled up under her sleeve.
The mother dragon screeched in fury. The hatchling screamed and roiled, tossing its head back and forth. Nell’s heart pounded so hard it might burst through her chest. The baby’s scales faded from red to blue, to red again. Blue inched along its wings. What was going on? Red mist shimmered around Nell and the hatchling, faint but unmistakable. Something rushed up her arm: fire, power… magic.
Nell stared at her arm in horror. Her blood. Her blood was contaminated by Shane’s poison. Whatever was cont
rolling the beasts must be in her blood, and now she’d infected the little one. His magic was drawing forth the newborn dragon’s power, seeking the match to the blood that had touched it. The baby’s scales bloomed with deep blue, replacing the fiery red in splotches across half its body.
“No!” she cried. She tried to refuse the magic, pushing back against the influx with the deep part of her that had awoken at the fairies’ stings.
The bleeding of power slowed but still seeped sluggishly from the creature. She had to get the hatchling out of here before the transformation completed. Maybe Micah could help it fight the magic’s compulsion.
At least one good thing came from this huge mistake: Nell sensed she could give the baby a command and it would follow. It wouldn’t have a choice, not under the influence of Shane’s icy magic. She didn’t like forcing the creature, but it was necessary. “You will fly me out of here. I’ll help heal you, but we’ve got to leave now.”
More shouts came from behind the mother dragon, and she leaned harder against the door.
Nell took a deep breath, running her hands along the hatchling’s shoulder. Alternating waves of heat and ice flowed along its slick scales. The ridges along its neck ended at the back of its shoulders, and it was there Nell aimed to sit.
The dragon was small enough for Nell to jump and sling one leg over, as if she were riding a big horse. She gripped the spiny dorsal ridges, ignoring the pain in her left hand.
“Let’s go!” Nell said, trying to imagine lifting up into the sky. The beast wasn’t intelligent like a fairy queen and was certainly no mermaid, but maybe it would understand the pressure of her legs.
The mother dragon roared at her baby, as if in demand. The baby shook out its wings.
They spanned longer than two grown men lying head to head. The wings flapped, up and down. A cyclone of air spun up from its motions. Nell’s hair flew back, but instead of being terrified, she suddenly laughed. She, Nell Brennan, was about to fly on a dragon. She’d experienced a lot of amazing things in her life, but this one took top prize.